


Song of Solomon 2:10 "My beloved spoke and said to me, "Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, come with me.""

by queenmismatched



Category: Priest (2011)
Genre: Angst, Black Hat's Real Name is Vascar, F/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Robbery, Romance, Some Light Stalking, Vampires, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:14:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmismatched/pseuds/queenmismatched
Summary: It wasn’t as if the vampire could simply walk up and introduce himself. One look at his molten gold eyes or an accidental flash of his elongated canines, and Maddie would know he wasn’t totally human. Black Hat’s chances with the beautiful blonde would be dashed instantly.So what was he to do?(In which Vascar falls from afar.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Told ya'll I was gonna make this a thing.

Sunsets in the Wastelands were always greeted with a dangerous sort of reverence. Common men could appreciate the way the sun painted the sky in beautiful pinks, oranges and purples as it dipped behind the tall, craggy mountains that saturated the landscape outside of the City’s walls. Those same mountains, though, cast long, black shadows over the desert in the fading light, and in the Wastelands, one could never be sure what was lurking in the encroaching darkness. Predators of all kinds did their best, most gruesome work under the cover of night, and every human of average intelligence knew not to be outside after dark.

Black Hat relished in that sort of fear, and as he sat at the entrance to the Sola Mira hive, the hot desert breeze ruffling his brown hair, he waited, watching patiently as the sun descended further behind the rugged mountain peaks. It had been several days since he’d hunted last, and his belly had begun to grumble, protesting the lack of warm, sweet blood that it desired. Under the cover of darkness, Black Hat could hunt freely, stalking his victim and lying in wait for the perfect time to strike, to drain the blood from a body and watch as the light faded from their eyes. The hybrid licked his lips, letting his tongue brush over the tips of his fangs, the brief pain sending a jolt through his body that turned quickly to pleasure. He had yet to find anything that gave him such joy as the thrill of the kill, and doubted he ever would.

Joy was an odd sensation to the former holy man. In his past life, he’d been denied such a feeling, like he’d been denied most other things. The Church demanded discipline from it’s Priests in all things: sadness was forbidden, as was joy, love, lust, and gluttony, to name a few. Such emotions were considered distractions, temptations from the Devil to sway the righteous from their cause, to lead them down a path of wickedness and sin. Priests could never mourn a fallen comrade, nor could they celebrate the arrival of a replacement. Priests could not covet after the common man’s simple life, and they could not show dissatisfaction with their own. They were to be tools for the Church, without feeling, without hindrance from the outside world. Created, used, and disposed of, never to be spoken of again once they were no longer useful.

“ _And they say the vampire is a soulless creature,”_ Black Hat thought bitterly. “ _No wonder none of them ever came back for me.”_

It wasn’t until his transformation, his rescue from death by the vampire Queen after the failed raid on the Sola Mira hive, that Black Hat had been able to feel anything other than devotion to the Church. He had emerged from the depths of the hive out into the moonless dark with the Queen’s urging voice in his ears.

“Go, my son.” she had crooned inside his head, stroking his hair with a three fingered hand, no sign of the wound that had nourished him on her arm. “Feed, and return to me.”

Black Hat had set off slowly, stumbling blindly over loose rock and dirt, his clothes torn and skin shredded with puncture wounds, and had known only that he needed to quell the white hot fire that burned through his throat and stomach. The newly made vampire had staggered through the quiet dark of the desert, driven forward by a instinctual need, something he could not name, until he had stumbled across a camp. Bandits, if he remembered correctly, rugged outlaws sleeping in their cots, fire slowly flickering as it died out into embers. They never saw him coming, and not one had a chance to reach for their guns or even scream. Black Hat had gorged himself that first night, relying on instinct to drain body after body, the sweet life force washing easily down his throat until his belly had groaned in protest and he was forced to stop. He had not been repulsed by his actions, the song of the Queen still ringing through his head, urging him to feed, to take his fill, and he’d done so without shame. In fact, he had been joyful at the feeling of fullness, reveling in his gluttony and bloodlust. It made him feel free, whole.

_It had made him feel alive._

Black Hat had tasted much blood since that first feeding. The blood of bandits, sure, but there were much sweeter treats to be found if one knew where to look, and he’d come to know what he could stomach and what he couldn’t. Whores, for example, made his stomach churn and violently revolt, so he stayed away from them. Bandits were often full of booze, which left him feeling light-headed, so he saved them for a last resort. No, he much prefered ordinary townspeople, those who either refused to heed the warnings of being out after dark, or those who got caught outside by mistake. Their blood was thick and sweet, untainted by abuse of alcohol and free of disease. Priest blood was the best he had ever had, with Priests having never drank wine, save for Communion, and being free of diseases of the flesh. Black Hat had only tasted one Priest in his life, as they were rare in the Wastelands, preferring to stay inside the walled Cities. A much harder prey to hunt, and he was not going to go through all the trouble just for a taste of the rich ambrosia that flowed through their veins. No, townspeople would have to do.

Black Hat shifted where he sat, the jagged rock of the cliffside digging into his back through his thick leather coat, and glared at the sun with his golden eyes at it seemed to stall in the sky. Sunset felt like it was taking far longer than usual, and the vampire was growing impatient, another odd emotion he’d come to feel since his rebirth. He could head down to the town now, at the risk of being spotted, or he could wait until dark. His stomach rumbled, hunger urging him to go feed, but he held himself back, watching the sky as it filled with oranges and pinks in the setting sunlight. He could wait. Being spotted would ruin his chance for a decent meal.

Plucking a loose rock from the ground with his slender fingers, Black Hat let the cool weight of it fill his hand before he tossed it aimlessly over the cliff face, listening as it smacked against other rocks on the way down. The life of a human-vampire consisted of a lot of waiting, he’d realized, and that wait was quickly growing old. He actually found himself missing parts of his life as a Priest. Not the religion or the discipline, no, but the sense of camaraderie and brotherhood. Despite his natural shyness, Black Hat had become used to being surrounded by people all the time. He had eaten, prayed, slept and trained in the presence of his brothers and sisters from the time he was 10 years old up until his transformation, when he suddenly found himself alone for the first time. He had no companionship, no equal amongst the hordes of vampires and familiars he was now lording over. The vampires, despite being perfect predators, had none of man’s intelligence, and the familiars, slaves made out of former victims, were hardly any better. As grateful as he was for the second chance he was given, Black Hat was growing bored with his stagnant way of life.

 _'Lonely,'_ whispered a small voice in the back of his head, a coldness that had nothing to do with hunger gnawing at his stomach.

That puzzled the hybrid. Was he lonely? Perhaps, it could be true. He hadn’t had a decent conversation since his turning, at least not one that didn’t involve pleading or screaming, but was there anyone around who could keep up with him? Black Hat wanted companionship, not meaningless blather. He wanted someone intelligent and strong-minded, not weak and mindless like the familiars. Someone to make him smile, to bring some meaning to his stationary world again.

 _'A mate! '_ The voice demanded, and Black Hat scoffed aloud. Now, there was a thought. The hybrid had partaken in most of everything he had been denied as part of the Church: drinking, smoking, murder, and theft. Hell, he’d even grown out a scruffy beard just to go against their rules about being clean shaven, but he had never laid with a woman. He would be a liar if he denied ever thinking about it, though. Often times, when he could not sleep, Black Hat would let his mind wander, and he would imagine what it would feel like to have someone to be with. The hybrid craved another person in his life: someone to laugh with, someone to love and cherish. He would get lost in the thought of smooth skin against his, the smell of sweet perfume filling his nostrils as he held his woman. Maybe she would feel supple and soft underneath his body as he filled her, her cries of pleasure in his ears. Maybe she would call his name as he took her, or perhaps he could swallow her voice in his kiss.

Nights like that often ended with his hand shoved eagerly down the front of his pants, fantasizing about a slick heat around his length rather than his own rough hand. That train of thought had Black Hat growling at the same time as his stomach, and golden eyes glanced upwards. The last bit of pink was fading from the sky, a deep purple replacing it. Stars twinkled against the inky night sky, and Black Hat grinned, his fangs pointing out past his bottom lip. He plucked his wide brim hat from the dirt beside him and secured it on his head, covering the ink that marred his skin.

_It’s time._

* * *

 

The town of Solomon was just like any other town in the Wastelands: desolate, dusty, and dilapidated. The few structures in the town that could pass for buildings were in a state of terrible disarray, the wood splintering and peeling from years of the harsh sun and vicious sandstorms that battered the Wastelands. Solomon’s only claim was a main street dotted with shops, including a general store, and a tavern called “Jared’s Alehouse.” Otherwise, all the other structures in the town limits were homes, crudely built shacks slapped together by settlers seeking reprieve from the Church’s oppressive regime. Alleyways between the businesses and homes provided the perfect place for bandits and predators to lie in wait for an easy target.

It was from the protective darkness of one such alley that Black Hat spotted her.

Rather, he smelled her, the sweet scent of her blood carried to his nose by the cool desert breeze. It filled his head as he inhaled deep into his chest: raspberries and vanilla, an intoxicating combination. Hunger rumbled in his belly, and a vicious grin spread over Black Hat’s scruffy face.

She would make a delicious dinner.

From his vantage point in the alley, he could not see what his prey looked like. Her figure was covered by a long black coat, a hood pulled over her head to block the wind from her face.

‘ _Smart girl_ .’ thought the hybrid. ‘ _But not smart enough to be home before dark_.’

The dirt of the main path crunched under her boots as she headed away from town, probably towards her home. Black Hat slipped quietly around buildings and through alleyways, keeping out of sight but within the range of her scent. He would not lose such a delicious prey.

It seemed that the vampire was not the only one following the girl, though, as another human, a redhead boy barely into his teens, snuck quietly around from the side of the general store as she passed. Black Hat watched, curious, as the boy crept up behind the woman and tried to slip something from her coat pocket with gentle fingers. The woman, though, was on to him, and snagged his wrist in a tight, angry grip, jerking him around to stand in front of her.

“Something I can do for you, Amos Greene?” demanded the woman. Amos swallowed hard, and gave a sheepish smile.

“S-Sorry, Miss Roth! I-I ain’t know it was you!”

“So that makes it okay to try and steal from me?” The woman’s voice was firm and even with a hard edge, and the sound of it made Black Hat grin. Clearly, this little spitfire meant business.

“N-No ma’am!” cried the boy, eyes wide. “I was just- Well, I was-”

“‘You were just,’ Amos,” she cut in, “gettin’ your sorry behind on home where you belong, weren’t you?”

The redheaded boy nodded quickly, and the woman released his wrist, letting him step back.

“I’ll let you off easy this time. But if I catch you out here pullin’ this shit again, I _will_ be tellin’ your grandma. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

“Go,” was the woman’s final word, and Amos took off in a dead sprint away from town, leaving the woman standing in the path alone. She watched him go, her hands on her hips, and sighed.

“Thievin’ at thirteen,” Black Hat heard her mumble. “Christ, that’s all we need in this town.”

Shaking her head, the woman took off again towards home, and Black Hat resumed his hunt.

Her house was in better shape that most, with a large front porch and pitched roof. The wood wasn’t peeling, but it was weathered and worn, making it look a hundred years old. Black Hat took refuge behind a few crates behind the building next door to hers, with a perfect sightline through the windows. He would not be seen unless he wanted to be seen, and that was just how he liked it. With his above-average sight and hearing, the vampire wouldn’t miss a second of what was going on inside the house, and he could wait for the most opportune moment to strike. His belly protested at the wait, but he ignored it.

He would not pass up this chance.

* * *

 

Maddie Roth had never been so grateful to see her run-down little home.

Working as one of only two schoolteachers in the town of Solomon had always been difficult, yet rewarding. She loved working with the children, even the troublemakers like Amos Greene, but there was only so much she could take in one day.

Rachel, the teacher responsible for the younger children, had not shown up for work that day, which was not typical for her, but then again, food poisoning was not typical either. Maddie had spent the day trying to juggle the younger kids in a classroom equipped for a higher level of learning. She had struggled to keep the older students on task with their writing and reading, while also trying to make sure that the younger ones were doing their own work. By 2 o’clock, dismissal time, Maddie had been completely exhausted, but her day was not done.  Her students had just completed a book report, the second one of the school year so far, and she had promised to get the scores back as quickly as she could, which left her with a mountain of papers to grade. Before Maddie had known it, the sun had set and she had been alone in the dark with her papers.

Having decided to postpone posting the grades for another day, Maddie had hurried home, stopping only to scold Amos Greene for his attempt at nicking her wallet. Even now, as she pulled off her coat and shoes, she could see his freckled face in the dim of the street, eyes wide with surprise at having been caught. Crime was rare in Solomon, but there was the occasional theft from the general store or someone’s porch. If Amos Greene was thinking of turning to a life of crime for kicks, then Maddie would have a talk with his grandmother, for sure.

Having flipped the light switch to illuminate her house, Maddie ran a hand through her hair, shuffling to the kitchen to fill the kettle and set it on the stove. Tea always made her feel better after a long day. She planned to make a small dinner, before curling up with a good book and her tea before bed.

Nothing wrong with a bit of relaxing.

* * *

 

Black Hat was completely enchanted by the woman under the heavy black coat.

He could see her properly in the light and her beauty stunned him, all air leaving his chest in an captivated exhale. Enthralled by her, he dared to shift closer to the window for a better look, all thoughts of dinner now vanished from his mind. All Black Hat could see was her.

Her hair was a silky light blonde and straight as a ruler, hanging down to her waist in a loose half-ponytail. The woman’s heart shaped face was smooth and free of blemishes, unusual for someone in the Wastelands, and the dusty pink of her bow-shaped mouth stood out against her tan, creamy skin. Even her eyes, a warm hazel-green, were lovely to the vampire. The long dress that had been hidden under the coat was just as beautiful: a pure ivory, free from stain or dirt, with a modest neckline and long, fitted sleeves. The fabric clung to her slender shapely body in all the right places without being obscene.

Now Black Hat was interested. How had such a lovely little thing flourished in an awful place like Solomon? She was far too good for such a backwater town. She seemed otherworldly, ethereal, even.

_Like an angel._

The sound of shattering glass jerked Black Hat from his thoughts, his attention turning quickly to the woman inside. In her haste to make dinner, she’d dropped a glass onto the hardwood, the shards glittering on the dark floors like diamonds. He listened to her curse, tiptoeing carefully over the glass to get the broom.

“Way to go, Maddie,” she mumbled to herself, angrily snatching the broom from it’s place by the wall.

Black Hat grinned in delight.

“Maddie.” The name rolled off of his tongue in a silken purr. Finally, he had a name for this little angel, and it was just as lovely as she was.

* * *

 

Dinner for Maddie was a simple affair: pan seared chicken and vegetables, with a glass of red wine to go along. Living out in the Wastelands, fresh food was hard to come by, but somehow, the people of Solomon always managed to get exactly what they needed.

After eating and cleaning up, and making sure she had gotten every shard of glass from her shattered cup off the floor, Maddie had poured her tea from the whistling kettle and moved to the living room. Her house was small and simple, yet she’d managed to fit a large, oak bookcase along one wall with enough space for her many tomes and novels. Every single shelf was filled to capacity with books, leaving no gap unstuffed.

Even as a young girl, Maddie had held a fondness for books and reading. Her mother had nurtured that fondness in her as a child, buying her book after book with whatever spare money she had, and as she’s gotten older, most of Maddie’s money also went to books. There was something about the stories that had drawn her in. The words on the pages were an escape from the harsh life of the Wastelands. Lost in her books, Maddie could be anything she wanted to be, from a princess in some distant land, to a warrior in the midst of a raging war. Maybe that was the appeal of reading: the chance to change her circumstances, to leave the ravaged landscape that the town of Solomon sat on and make something of herself.

Whatever the appeal, Maddie hoarded books like a dragon hoarded gold, and now she had enough to fill a whole bookcase. Plucking one of her favorites from the shelf with delicate fingers, she settled onto her soft lounge chair with her cup of tea, intent on reading until her eyes grew weary and tired. Only then would she call it a day.

* * *

 

No matter how hard he tried, Black Hat simply could not tear his golden eyes away from the window, studying Maddie’s every move. He watched as she cooked and ate in silence, ignoring his own stomach’s demands for nourishing blood, and as she settled into her chair with her book, he sat, enraptured by her every little movement, from the way she folded her legs to the way her hazel-green eyes scanned the pages.

So, she was a reader? Black Hat himself had quite the literary collection in the quiet cabin he’d claimed for himself outside the Sola Mira hive. It was a point of commonality between the two, and it made Black Hat’s heart flutter.

‘ _She’s obviously intelligent to have that many books,_ ’ he thought, chewing absentmindedly on his bottom lip. The hybrid could not, for the life of him, figure out why he was so enthralled with this one human woman. Sure, Maddie was beyond beautiful, and clearly smart, but why did that matter to him? Not thirty minutes ago, he had been intent on feeding from her slender, pretty neck, and now here he was, posted outside like some stalker, fawning over the way her nose crinkled when she laughed aloud at a funny passage in her book. Had her beauty ensnared him so much that he was willing to deny the call of her sweet blood?

‘ _Why do I care so damn much?_ ’ Black Hat fumed. ‘ _She’s just one girl! I oughta’ barge in and rip her throat out with my teeth!’_

 _‘So why don’t you?’_ mocked his inner voice. ‘ _Go on, do it. End her.’_

But the vampire didn’t move. Instead, he sat and watched, studying every little movement, from the tapping of her foot on the floor, to the way she held her teacup. Nothing went unnoticed.

 _‘You want her,’_ taunted the voice. _‘She’s the one, and you want her.’_

Black Hat cursed under his breath, trying to remind himself that the woman was dinner, _not_ a companion. Even so, he could hardly deny that she had piqued his curiosity. He had gone so long without coming across anyone interesting, and everything about this one, from her scent to her habits, intrigued him. To find such a little treasure in the midst of all the Wastelands’ awfulness was rare, and it delighted the hybrid to stumble across someone so lovely for once.

 _‘And who knows?’_ purred the voice inside. _‘She could be the one you’ve been waiting for!’_

Black Hat grinned, scratching at his scruffy cheek as he watched Maddie sip her hot tea. Now, _that_ would be a treat, to have a woman so smart and lovely in his arms, to have her, with all her sweetness and beauty, warming his bed. If there ever was a woman he would want to lay with, it would be this one. Even better, it would be one more act of rebellion against the Church that had abandoned him, one great snub of the cross on his forehead that branded him like cattle. He had sworn to remain eternally celibate, to never take a lover into his bed, but he was done following the rules. How could anyone expect a man to live without love?

‘ _To hell with the Church, and to hell with their fucking vows,_ ’ Black Hat thought. _‘I like her. I want her.’_

But how to approach her? It wasn’t as if the vampire could simply walk up and introduce himself. One look at his molten gold eyes or an accidental flash of his elongated canines, and Maddie would know he wasn’t totally human. Black Hat’s chances with the beautiful blonde would be dashed instantly.

So what was he to do?

One grubby hand came to rest on his stomach as it gurgled, his abdomen twisting painfully, and Black Hat grimaced. He’d been so focused on this beautiful female that he had neglected his own needs. The urge to feed was getting too strong to resist, especially since he could still taste the blonde’s sweet scent in the air. If he didn’t hunt soon, he would find himself doing something foolish to her.

It took all the willpower Black Hat had in his body to tear himself away from his hiding place, away from his perfect line of sight into Maddie’s window, and shuffle down the alleyways in search of prey. He tipped his hat and head down so his golden eyes were covered, giving him the element of surprise over his victim. The streets of Solomon were long abandoned, most of the town’s residents having already retired to their homes for the night. Anyone that remained was probably a vagrant, looking to make a quick buck off of robbing some unsuspecting citizen.

 _‘And speaking of.’_ Black Hat quickly became aware that he was not alone in the alley, the fluttering of a human heart reaching his ears long before he saw a man step out of a dark corner towards him. A glimmer by the man’s hand caught his eye, and Black Hat realized it was a small pocket knife, the handle held tight in one pudgy fist.

“Aye, you!” spat the lumbering oaf, tall and slightly overweight. “Empty out ya’ pockets!”

Black Hat wrinkled his nose, resisting the urge to gag. The man had an overwhelmingly putrid stench about him, a wretched mix of body odor and horse manure, and judging by the stained ring of drying sweat around his collar, it had been some time since he’d bathed last.

‘ _Disgusting,’_ dismayed the vampire. _‘Christ, that is foul. Are the pickings in this town really so fucking slim?’_

“Hey, buddy!” the reeking robber continued, stepping forward. He brandished his knife in Black Hat’s direction. “Are ya’ fuckin’ deaf? I said, empty out yer fuckin’ pockets!”

The rumbling in Black Hat’s stomach grew louder, and he sighed.

_‘Beggars can’t be choosers. He’ll have to do.’_

“If I gotta’ repeat mys-”

“Oh, I heard you the first time, friend,” came the hybrid’s interruption, a slow, malicious grin spreading across his lips. “I was just giving you time to reconsider and walk away.”

“Walk away?” sneered the robber. “What’n the hell’s that suppose’ ta’ mean? Ya’ some kinda’ tough fuck? Think you can take me on, asshole?”

“Tough?” Black Hat repeated in a chuckle, before it gave way to a shoulder shaking laugh from deep in his hurting gut. “Oh, friend! You must not have heard!”

The vampire finally looked up, his molten gold eyes practically glowing in the dark of the alley. The alleyway filled with the sweet tang of pure, blood-cooling fear as the robber took one shaky step backwards, away from Black Hat, but it was too late.

“I’m the most dangerous thing in this town tonight,” crooned the vampire with a mocking grin. There was hardly a struggle: the man’s life was over in seconds, his neck snapped with a half-scream on his lips and Black Hat’s teeth ripping at his throat, tearing away the grime-ridden skin to expose a gushing torrent of sweet blood. The hybrid all but moaned at the hot rush that filled his throat, burning down his chest to fill his aching belly, gripping his victim’s wrists so hard that the bone pulverized to dust in his skin. Black Hat hummed at the sound, greedily gulping mouthful after mouthful of delicious life force until there was none left, and his fangs sucked in nothing but air. The carcass was dropped to the ground in a twisted heap, beady eyes still wide with shock, frozen at the moment of attack, and the sight made him laugh.

“Much obliged to you, friend,” slurred the vampire as he wiped his lips on the back of his hand. His full belly sloshed, a warm contentment flooding his veins. Black Hat had tasted better, but he’d also tasted worse, and the man was free of the sickly smell of disease, so he knew he wouldn’t get sick. All in all, a satisfactory meal.

In the darkness of the alley, Black Hat’s eye was caught by a burlap bag, the string drawn tight, leaning against the wall where the man had approached him from. Curious, he meandered over, opening the sack and dumping out it’s contents. He’d been right: his dinner _had_ been a robber, not just of people, but of houses. Several silver flasks glinted in the moonlight, which could fetch a good price at a pawn shop. From wallets and pocket watches to ornate ashtrays and prescription pill bottles, it seemed this robber took whatever he could get his hands on, but he had stranger treasures still. Stationary, bordered with intricate swirls of gold and black, and fancy looking fountain pens, probably taken from a desk. In the jumble of personal belongings, Black Hat even found an ornate vase, made of expensive looking blue china, and its contents: fresh roses, the color of newly spilled blood.

Black Hat smirked with a puzzled tilt of his head. What need would a crook have of roses? Had he meant to discard them, or was he going to keep them, to present to a lover? It was hard to imagine someone accepting such a gift from the swill he’d just drank from, but the thought did give the vampire an idea.

“I guess I am obliged to you after all,” remarked the vampire with a cold grin to the lifeless bloodied corpse. “You’ve just given me a way into Maddie’s arms.”

Whistling tunelessly, Black Hat collected his treasures into the pockets of his coat, carrying the roses carefully in his hands, and stalked down the alleyways towards Maddie’s house.

He had a way to introduce himself after all.

* * *

 

Maddie glanced at the clock on the wall in the kitchen and swore under he breath. It was nearing midnight, and she should’ve been in bed hours ago. She had gotten so caught up in her reading that she hadn’t been watching the time, and if she didn’t head to bed now, the teacher would regret it in the morning for sure.

Rising from her comfy chair with a long overdue stretch and a deep bellied groan, Maddie set about getting ready for bed. Her now cold tea was poured out in the sink, the cup left to sit until morning, and her place in the book was marked with a piece of paper she had lying around. Every door and window was locked, and the lights switched off as she plodded to her bedroom.

Like the rest of her humble house, it was simple, with a bed and dresser, but little else. Maddie was not one for unnecessary decoration: so long as she had the basics, she was content. She hardly ever wore jewelry, unless for a special occasion, and her furnishings were just as simple. The people of Solomon lived quiet lives without the need for excess, and it suited Maddie just fine.

Maddie was quick to steal away into the attached bathroom to change from her white day dress to her blue nightgown. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she slipped back into her bedroom to grab her comb, but was stopped when something unusual caught her eye.

The window by her bed was halfway open, the cool night’s air ruffling her white curtains. That struck Maddie as odd: she hadn’t opened her window at all, had she? As Maddie approached cautiously to close it, she parted the thin curtains to find yet another surprise waiting for her. A bouquet of blood red roses, tied together with a silky black ribbon, laid on her windowsill, the petals swaying in the breeze, with some sort of parchment beneath it. With hesitant fingers, Maddie plucked the note from under the flowers. The stationary was thick, with an elegant gold and black swirl border, and black words were written on it in graceful, angular script.

‘ _A gift for my Angel._

_Ever yours,_

_V.’_

Reading the words made Maddie’s heart race, blood rushing to redden her ears and warm her neck. V? She didn’t know anyone whose name began with a V. Had someone been watching her? Was this some kind of admirer?

Flinging the window completely open, Maddie stuck her upper body out, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of this mysterious gift-giver, but no matter which way she looked, she could see nothing. No footprints in the dirt, nor shadows darting past on the walls as someone hurried away. No hint as to who had been eyeing her, or for how long.

The streets of Solomon were deserted.

The cold desert breeze forced Maddie back inside, and she carefully lifted the bouquet to her nose, inhaling the fresh floral scent of the roses. A small smile crossed her lips. The thought of someone leaving her gifts should have worried her, but she felt oddly _safe,_ as if this mysterious V was watching out for her. Maddie shut the window and turned to go find a vase for the lovely flowers, practically giddy with excitement.

Whoever he was, he had good taste.

* * *

 

Black Hat watched from the rooftop as the blonde danced away from the window, his bouquet clutched her her chest, and he couldn’t help the grin that almost split his face in half, his fangs poking out from behind his bottom lip. Maddie had liked his gift. He had made contact with her, and was not rejected.

_Perfect._

Rising from his hiding place, Black Hat quickly dashed back towards the Sola Mira hive, careful not to be seen. 

There were preparations to be made.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maddie wonders after her mysterious V. Black Hat muses and plans. A new face arrives in the town of Solomon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. This one is late. I got busy.
> 
> I don't think I'm going to have a set updating day. I never update on time anyway. Just so long as I post once a week, we should be good.

 

In the weeks after Maddie received her mysterious midnight gift, she had desperately tried to catch a glimpse of her admirer.

He’d come to her a total of six times, each time bearing various gifts and a handwritten letter, and each time, Maddie had tried to catch him, only for him to slip away into the darkness. The schoolteacher was dying to know the identity of the mysterious V, but he was crafty and eluded her. She had no way to lie in wait for him; there was no set pattern for when the gifts appeared. Day after day would go by with no sign of V, and Maddie would begin to think that he had moved on, only for a bouquet of wildflowers to appear on her porch, or a new bottle of perfume to manifest on her dresser. 

The notes he left were no help, either. Each time, a different parchment was used, -some decorative, some plain- but the handwriting was always the same lovely, neat cursive. One letter was burnt around the edges, as if the paper had been rescued from a fire, while another held the watermark of a bank Maddie had never seen before. Even the letters’ contents offered little to no clues, and she had only just managed to piece together a tentative portrait of the mysterious gift-giver. 

‘ _ Please forgive me my secrecy, Angel, _ ’ one part of the note left with a pair of simple gold earrings had pleaded. The night before, Maddie had cursed aloud, almost on the brink of crying in frustration at, yet again, not catching a glimpse of V, and it seemed to have an effect on him. ‘ _ I am, as I have always been, painfully shy in dealing with others, especially women. Letters are the only way for me to convey my affection for you. I would never be brave enough to approach such a beauty as yourself in person.’ _

The letter, while it served to soften her anger, had revealed to Maddie a key detail: her admirer was bashful. There were so few men in the town of Solomon with such an affliction. Out in the Wastelands, confidence was the key to survival. A confident man could barter for goods, could set out on his own and make a life for himself beyond the confines of a town. In a world full of harshness, being shy could mean living a mediocre life, but her V didn’t write like he was mediocre. His handwriting was beautiful, his vocabulary was eloquent and verbose, more so than any other man Maddie had met in the harsh desert. 

‘ _ Does that mean he isn’t from the Wastelands _ ?’ Maddie wondered, re-reading one of V’s letters at the dining room table. Saturdays meant that she was spared from the stress of work, having graded all her students’ papers, and any free time the teacher had, which usually wasn’t much, was spent pouring over the letters, searching for any clue she may have missed in the lines of neat script. In her heart, she knew she would find nothing new, but reading the letters always brought her some sense of comfort, like he was there in the room with her instead of watching her from afar. 

And oh, V  _ was  _ watching her: Maddie knew it for a fact. He knew her favorite flowers, knew what kind of perfume she liked and her preferred style of jewelry. He’d even left her a rectangular gift box full of neatly folded lace and silk shawls after she had lost one of her favorites. Where he had gotten such extravagant gifts from was beyond Maddie, but she did know that he was studying her, learning her habits and likes. 

The thought of someone spying on her left the teacher feeling conflicted: on the one hand, it was flattering to think someone was going through all the trouble just to know what she wanted. 

On the other hand, it was profoundly unnerving. 

With an irritated sigh, Maddie threw V’s latest letter down on the table and rose to her feet, downing what little coffee remained in her mug in one gulp. She could not spend all day reading her admirer’s letters and pondering his identity. 

She had errands to run.

* * *

 

On a plot of dusty land just behind the Sola Mira hive, Black Hat had managed to secure himself a small cabin.

It had been abandoned for years by the time he had found it, and it showed, with the floor covered in a thick layer of desert sand, blown in through the holes in the roof and the busted out windows by the dust storms that plagued the Wastelands. The hardwood floors had been rotted through in some places, and the exterior had been peeling and full of gaps, the wood having expanded and contracted over many years until holes were formed. Leaning slightly to one side, the cabin had seemed as though one strong wind gust could topple the whole thing over, another poor built shack lost to the harsh desert climate. 

Black Hat had hated the ugly little cabin, but it was the closest dwelling he could find to the Sola Mira hive without having to build one himself, so he had set his familiars to work. The cabin had been gutted down to the studs and rebuilt, using stolen tools and materials from nearby towns, until everything was exactly to the vampire’s liking. When it was complete, it was filled with furniture and trinkets from the towns and homes that Black Hat and his vampires had pillaged, and while most of his belongings were mismatched, Black Hat thought it held a certain charm. Around his heavy, wooden dining room table sat a variety of chairs, some dark wood, some light wood, of varying heights and styles. The couch in front of the fireplace was a deep red, though the accompanying armchairs were grey with accents of black and metal. Even the furniture in his own bedroom didn’t match, from his wrought-iron bed to his mahogany chest of drawers, but Black Hat didn’t care.

He finally had things that were his and his alone, nevermind how he had obtained them. 

In the Church, he had never had _ things _ . Personal property did not exist: everything was given to the Priests by the Clergy, and could just as easily be taken away. The mat he had slept on, thin as a bandaid, was Church issue, as was his black robes, his boots, and even his comb. Nothing was his, not even a book.

_ ‘Oh, if my brothers could see me now,’ _ Black Hat mused to himself.  _ ‘I have my own place, my own belongings. I’m even shaping my own destiny.’ _

And Black Hat had decided that part of his destiny included Maddie, the sweet blonde he had found in the town of Solomon. Since his initial gift of roses, he had visited her five more times, each time with presents and a handwritten note, and each time, his clever Angel had tried to catch him by surprise. It made the hybrid laugh. How could such a tiny human woman ever hope of catching him, the King of the Vampires, off guard?

Of course, Maddie had no idea that her admirer was the infamous Black Hat, the one that parents and sheriffs alike warned innocent townsfolk about.

‘ _ He’s more animal than man! _ ’ Black Hat had heard one man hissing to a crowd of young women from atop a wooden crate.  _ ‘He’s hidin’ horns under that hat a’his, a gift from the Devil ‘imself! And beware his eyes of molten red! One look, and you’ll be under his wicked spell forever!’ _

Horns? Red eyes? What a joke. Black Hat had made quick work of that man as he had stumbled out of a tavern, but what he had said stuck with the vampire. In the time since his transformation, he’d become infamous throughout the Wastelands, a scary story used to frighten naughty children and thrill giggling virgins. 

‘ _ Does Maddie know about my reputation? _ ’ Black Hat had wondered in passing. Either way, signing that moniker on his letters to Maddie would have been suicide: she never would have responded to him the way she did if she knew who he was, and it wouldn’t have taken her long to find out if she didn’t, so Black Hat had been forced to get creative. He had reverted back to using part of his name, his  _ real _ name, the one he’d had before the Church snatched him away at the tender age of eight. 

_ Vascar.  _

It sounded so foreign to him. It had been more than thirty years since anyone had dared to utter his birth name aloud, and the letters still sat funny on his own tongue when he tried to say it. In the Church, he’d been Brother, then Father. The hive Queen had called him Son, and later General, but no one ever called him Vascar. It was still odd to him, his old name, and so he’d compromised, signing his letters with a V. Not quite the truth, but not quite a lie. 

A compromise.

Black Hat sighed, trailing his dirty fingers over a line of gold chains he had placed on his dresser. The sun was high and bright in the sky, and the vampire should have been in bed, but he found himself unable to sleep. It would be time to deliver another gift to Maddie soon, and he was having a hard time deciding what to give her. A new necklace to go with his gift of gold earrings? Another thick book to stuff her shelves with? 

“What to give the girl who has everything?” the vampire mumbled to himself, perching his fatigued body on the edge of his bed, the frame squeaking under his weight. He ran a hand through his dark, scruffy hair, stifling a deep-bellied yawn. The beginnings of a headache were forming behind his right eye, a deep, incessant throbbing that had him pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. He had been up for too long: even vampires needed to rest, yet he found himself pushing his body to the limit just for Maddie. Settling back against his pillows, Black Hat let his hands wander over the soft fabric of his bedspread, until his fingers brushed against an edge of delicate fabric, and Black Hat smiled to himself.

“Maddie,” he murmured, drawing the thin white lace up to his nose so he could inhale the sweetness of her scent. The vampire had almost forgotten he had it.

He’d already given her a horde of new shawls to replace this one, the one she had lost, complete with a decorative box. And if he had failed to mention in his letter that her shawl was lost  _ because  _ of him, well, that didn’t count as a lie, did it? Maddie, forgetful as any other human, had left the dainty, lacy wrap in her classroom overnight, and when he stole through the schoolhouse window and plucked it from the back of her chair, he’d had every intention of returning it, if it wasn’t for the fact that he had caught a noseful of her scent. That _ smell, _ the perfume of raspberries and vanilla that had compelled Black Hat to follow her home that first night, it was _ all over  _ Maddie’s shawl, and as he’d held it in his hands, it’s sweetness had filled his head. It had completely intoxicated him until he could think of nothing else. Black Hat wanted to surround himself with her aroma, to breathe and bathe and  _ drown  _ in her honeyed scent, and before he’d been able to stop himself, the former Priest had run all the way back to his cabin, the delicate lace clutched firmly in his hand, to lay it on his bed and fill his room with the sweetness of his Angel. Black Hat had found her more shawls, of course, to replace his stolen souvenir, but he would be hard pressed to return this treasure to her.

Heaviness crept into Black Hat’s bones as he laid on his bed, his body screaming for rest, and he resigned himself to the fact that he would need to go to sleep. Settling down under his light covers, Black Hat drew Maddie’s shawl up to his face, rubbing his scruffy cheek across it, reveling in the feeling of the lace against his stubble and the smell that filled his nose. Yawning, the vampire turned to his side, curling his body around the delicate fabric as he clutched it to his chest. Any other man would probably feel shame at such a display of longing, but he had discarded that emotion when he was transformed. 

Besides, this shawl was the closest he would get to holding his Angel.

For now, anyway.

With a soft grin still gracing his lips, the vampire king drifted off to sleep, the scent of his beloved in his nose, her favorite shawl gripped tight against his chest. Gift planning would have to wait. He would find something to give her when he woke up.

* * *

 

The town of Solomon was not very big, with a population of around one thousand people, and it boasted only a few decent shops on it’s main drag. 

The most prosperous of these was the general store, situated at the very center of the plaza, with a large, albeit faded, sign over it’s front entrance. The shop had large bay windows in which the owner, a pot-bellied man by the name of Butch Carson, would display various special goods for the townsfolk to see, ranging from bolts of lace and silk to handmade jewelry and shoes. The store’s inside was plain and rustic, with a long wooden counter, complete with glass showcases filled with jewelry and other valuables, that stretched from one side of the store to the other. Rickety wooden shelves were fitted haphazardly into every available space, with very little order to their stocking. Groceries were generally towards the back of the store, with household goods like cookware and soap in the middle, and tools upfront near the counter, where Butch could keep an eye out for any kids with sticky fingers. Things like baskets, ropes and buckets were hung from the ceiling on metal hooks. On the floor in front of the counter sat a row of metal tubs, filled to the brim with things like nuts, beans, and even fruits, to be measured out and sold by the pound. Even the countertop, which stretched the length of the store, was almost completely covered in bins, stuffed with candy or tobacco, except for a small area which housed the cash register and a place to bag groceries. The store had everything. If there was ever anything that a Solomon resident needed, and they couldn’t find it at the general store, then they just weren’t going to find it at all.

Maddie dashed up the few steps to the store with her shopping list in her hand and her basket hanging from her elbow, slipping in through the already open door as another woman came out. The air inside the store was stagnant, but still cooler than the scorching desert heat outside, and Maddie wiped her sweaty forehead with her arm as she approached the counter.

“Morning, Mrs. Carson,” she greeted the shopkeeper’s wife. Mabel Carson, an older woman with thin, salt and pepper hair and a wrinkled face, smiled at the schoolteacher as she sorted sour candies into a bin. 

“Madeline!” cheered Mabel with a polite smile. “What a pleasant surprise! I’d’ve thought you’d be home gradin’ papers today.”

“Got ‘em all done yesterday. Speakin’ of, how’s Butch feelin’ today?”

The previous night, Butch Carson had fallen away in a dead faint outside of his store, his face red as a beet and covered in sweat. He was carried off to the town’s doctor by passers-by, but no one knew anything about his condition since. Unconcerned, Mabel waved her off with one hand.

“Oh, he’s fine, he’s fine. Just a bit of heatstroke, that’s all. I tell him to drink water, but Lord knows he don’t listen to me. Twenty years of marriage. You’d think he’d know by now that I’m always right.”

Maddie couldn’t help but laugh at that. Butch was nothing if not stubborn; life in the Wastelands often had that effect on people. 

“Was there something specific you needed?” Mabel asked, dusting her sugar coated hands off on her skirt. “Or are you just looking around today?”

“Oh, I’ve got my list, but I was wondering if you had any parchment? Maybe something a bit fancy?”

Mabel moved over to a drawer behind the counter and drew from it a thick stack of paper.

“You’re more than welcome to look,” she said, handing Maddie the stack. “I’m not quite sure what we got.”

Most of the paper sheets were plain, with little decoration aside from various colored borders. Only a few sheets held what Maddie was looking for, with elegant swirls of black or flowers on their borders, and she drew them from the stack. 

“I’ll take these.” Handing them over to Mabel, Maddie set the rest of the pile aside as neatly as she could. 

“Oh, how lovely! Writing a letter to a special someone?” the shopkeeper’s wife teased as she slipped the papers into a protective envelope. The tips of Maddie’s ears and the back of her neck suddenly grew hot. She had planned to use the parchment to write a return letter or two to V and leave it on her windowsill for him to find, but did he count as a special someone? A secret admirer  _ was  _ special, no doubt, but she didn’t think that qualified under what Mrs. Carson was referring to.

“Just a friend,” the teacher managed to answer tensely. Mrs. Carson fixed her with a disbelieving look, but said nothing further as Maddie drifted away to do the rest of her shopping. The list she’d brought with her was not that extensive. She picked up a few bars of soap, various buttons to sew onto her dresses, and even a new red mug to replace the one she had dropped in her kitchen. She added a pound of beans, coffee and salt to her basket, along with a bag of her favorite black tea, and made her way back towards the counter in the front to grab some sweet white onions.

It was while she was rifling through the onion barrel that she noticed someone else in the store. A tall, lean man, with a mop of dark blonde hair and a scruffy face, was leaning against the counter, chatting up a smiling Mrs. Carson. His untucked shirt was an off-black and grey plaid, his dark denim jeans dirty and caked with dust, the same as his black boots. Maddie had been so absorbed in her shopping that she hadn’t even heard him come in, so she waited patiently off to the side while he and Mabel talked. It took Mabel a moment to notice that the teacher was standing in front of the counter, but when she did, she immediately straightened up, her wrinkled cheeks turning pink at her own obliviousness.

“Oh, Madeline! I didn’t see you there!” Mabel waved her over to the cash register, and the man politely side stepped to get out of her way. “Did you find everything you needed?”

“Yes, ma’am, I got it all.”

“Well, that’s good. Madeline, have you met Victor?” Mabel Carson gestured to the plaid shirted man. “Victor’s new in town. He just moved here from Bethlehem about a month ago. Victor, this is Madeline Roth, she’s one of Solomon’s fine schoolteachers.”

_ ‘Moved from Bethlehem?’  _ thought the blonde _. ‘To Solomon? How unusual.’ _

Up close, Maddie could see the man, Victor, much better. He was averagely handsome, with full lips, and a strong jawline hidden under his facial scruff. Two dark, leering eyes were set under a heavy brow, and his whole face was covered in a scattering of freckles. Victor met Maddie’s stare and grinned, white teeth peeking out from behind his lips as he extended his hand for her to take.

“Victor Betteridge,” he greeted. His voice was deep and raspy, like he hadn’t had anything to drink recently. “How do you do, Mrs. Roth?”

“It’s Miss Roth,” Maddie corrected, shaking Victor’s rough, calloused hand quickly. “And I do just fine. How about yourself?”

“Oh, fine, fine.” 

As Madeline stood at the counter, she could feel Victor’s dark eyes scanning up and down her body, and she was grateful that she had worn a loose, pale blue dress instead of one that hugged her figure. She did not appreciate this man looking at her in such a way, though men often did, and she squirmed, an uncomfortable coldness crawling across her skin. After a beat or two of heavy silence, Victor smiled across the counter to Mabel and said, “Well, I’ll be gettin’ oughta’ your way, Mrs. Carson. Nice to see you again.”

“Oh, take care, Victor. Be careful out there in that heat, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

Before he turned to go, Victor glanced over to Maddie and dropped his voice down low.

“I hope to be seein’ you again, Miss Roth,” he purred, and Maddie resisted the urge to shudder at his tone. 

“Mister Betteridge,” she bit out in a tight voice, refusing to look at him. It wasn’t until the stranger had slipped out the front door, the bell above it jingling loudly through the shop, that Maddie exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, letting the tension drop from her shoulders. Why did that man make her so uncomfortable? Strangers were rare in Solomon, sure, and she had every right to be on her guard, but there was just something about this one that made her stomach twist and her skin crawl.

_ ‘He’s slippery.’ _ Maddie could hear her Mamma whisper in the back of her head, the words from an old, distant memory.  _ ‘Like an eel dipped in grease. No good.’ _

‘ _ No good, _ ’ she agreed, turning her attention to Mabel Carson, whom she paid with a polite smile, thanking her for her groceries and promising to be back before the week’s end. As Maddie exited the general store, the heat from the desert blasting her full force the moment she stepped outside, she couldn’t help but glance around, searching for any sign of the plaid-clad man and praying that he wasn’t hiding somewhere, waiting for her. When she saw nothing, the teacher hurried home, constantly looking over her shoulder to ensure she was not being followed, and once she was inside, she made sure to bolt and lock the front door. Call it paranoia, but something in her gut told her that she  _ would _ be seeing Victor Betteridge again, and much sooner than she’d like to.

It wasn’t until Maddie had begun to unpack her goods, her mind replaying the unusual encounter in the general store, that something odd struck her: Victor. An unusual name, not heard much around the Wastelands. Most names out here were Biblical in origin, a byproduct of the Church’s centuries of influence, and one typically never heard a name so obviously unique. 

Victor.  _ Victor. _

_ V! _

A cold chill rushed it’s way through Maddie’s blood, her new red mug slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor, just as she sunk to her knees in disbelief. One hand came up to cover her mouth, the other clutching on to the countertop for support. Was this stranger  _ her  _ V, the one who had left such extravagant gifts and penned such loving letters? How could he be, when his very presence filled her with dread? 

‘ _ His timeline fits,’  _ Maddie realized, bile rising in the back of her throat.  _ ‘He moved here a month ago, right around the time I started getting letters and gifts. Has he been watching me? Is he watching me right now?’ _

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she slumped back against the cabinets, despair flooding her heart and sinking her stomach. It couldn’t be Victor, could it? He was so lecherous, so crudely put together. He seemed nothing at all like her eloquent, elegant V. Could he seriously be her admirer? 

Her belly twisted with anxiety, and Maddie let her head fall back against the cabinet with a dull thump. Yes, something in her gut told her that she  _ would _ be seeing Victor Betteridge again, and  _ much  _ sooner than she’d like to.

 


End file.
